Page 339 of Dirty Discipline, Vol. 1

“So do you two know each other from England, then?”

“Chicago, actually. But like attracts like, I suppose.”

“Right. Probably not that many English vampires around, are there?”

Fox gave a short laugh. “Gay English vampires. I guess not in the U.S., anyway.”

“So, were you a couple?”

“Yes,” Fox said without explanation, and Randolph seemed to grow a little stiff.

A thought suddenly occurred to her. “Is your name really Fawkes, as in Guy Fawkes?”

“You just now figured that out?” Fox said drily.

“So did you make up the last name McQueen?”

“What do you think?”

“What was your original first name?”

“That, my love, I'm not going to tell you.”

“Why not?” she asked indignantly.

“Because that boy is dead.”

“Oh. Right.” She could understand that.

Fox pulled into the car dealership. “I'm thinking a Mini Cooper,” he said, turning around and looking at her. “You would look hot in a little red one.” He had summoned a faint grin. She managed one back at him.

“Yeah, okay. That sounds great,” she said dully.

She ended up with a cream-colored convertible Mini Cooper. She ought to feel like she'd just won the lottery, but instead, driving the beautiful new car Fox picked out and paid in cash for her felt like a defeat of sorts. A step away from Dom.

The next few days continued the same way—either Fox or Stella stayed with her through the night, with no word or contact from Dom, who they said was still okay. She was relieved when Thursday rolled around and they had a gig at a loungey kind of bar near the university.

She sang sad songs that night and Fox didn't razz her about it. It worked with the atmosphere of the bar and she was able to lose herself for a little while in the music. They took a break between sets and she sipped on a ginger ale with lime. All five of the band members were squeezed into a booth together when an impossibly beautiful woman in short skirt and high heels stopped at their table.

“Well, hello there, Fox,” she purred. Fox froze.

There were five vampires flanking her, all looking deadly.

Fox just stared back at her with hatred in his eyes. This must be Roxanna.

“What, no hello? Where are your manners?” Then she turned to Joe, the band member on the end of the booth. “Get out,” she said.

One of her minions reached down to forcibly help him out of the booth and onto his feet. She saw him stare into Joe's eyes, no doubt erasing his memory of this event. There was a scramble of activity as the minions pulled them out of the booth one by one. When it was her turn, she avoided his eyes, but he caught her head and tilted it back. “This one's got bite marks,” he announced.

“I use her for blood,” Fox said quickly. “She doesn't know.”

Kate played along. “What? What are you talking about, Fox? What's going on?”

“Bring her along. She may prove useful,” Roxanna said.

She shoved them into the back of a van, duct taping their wrists behind their backs. Fox didn't fight, but his eyes were alert, darting everywhere, as if he were taking in all the information he possible could, making a plan to get them out this.

They took them to a hotel nearby, hauling them roughly out of the van and marching them into the building, flanking them to hide their taped wrists. Kate's heart was beating double time, but she followed Fox's example and kept her mouth shut.

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